


Rubber Meets Road (Can You Smell the Smoke?).

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [29]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Anxious Thoughts, Because I am LONG overdue for one, But this is an angst fic, Car Accidents, Here we go, Making Up, Mentions of Injuries, Multi, Passive aggressive behavior, Verbal Fighting, Working things out, Yes there is a happy ending, don't read if you think it'll trigger you, mentions of abuse, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 03:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17072954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: You steal a car with Wade and wreck it.Piotr's not happy. You're not happy.Fighting ensues.(Set after "I'm Not as Think as You Drunk I Am" and "Moving In.")(All warnings in the tags. This is an angst fic. Read at your own risk.)





	Rubber Meets Road (Can You Smell the Smoke?).

**_“You know you don’t want me to!”_   
**

Rain pelts against the windshield, blurring the view of the road for an instant before the wipers sweep the droplets away.

**_“I don’t know how to stop!”_ **

The engine growls as you press the accelerator pedal down, forcing the vehicle to speed faster down the seemingly empty road.

**_“Now that I’m here with you!”_ **

Thunder cracks overhead, and you grin as a rush of adrenaline courses through your body.

**_“I don’t know how to stop!”_ **

The steering wheel buzzes under your palms, vibrating with the beat of the rock music blasting through the speakers.

“This still isn’t better than flying,” you say, taking a break from your karaoke session. “But driving is pretty awesome!”

In the passenger seat next to you, Wade grins. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be all bad.”

You laugh, delighted --then grimace when an all too familiar ringtone blares over the car’s Bluetooth synced speaker system. “Wuh-oh. I think we’ve been found out.”

Wade cackles as Boney M.’s “Rasputin” plays. “How mad do you think he’s gonna be?”

“Only one way to find out.” You tell the Bluetooth system to answer the call, then put on your best cheerful, ‘I’m totally not doing anything wrong at all’ voice. “Hey, babe! How’s it going?”

“What are you doing?” Piotr snaps. “Why did you and Wade steal car from X-Men garage? What were you thinking?”

You wince. Great. He’s pissed. “Look, baby, Wade just took me out for some driving lessons. That’s all.”

“Right. During thunderstorm. And he’s letting you speed.”

“How did you--” You glare at the fancy dashboard. “Wait. This thing has a tracker on it, doesn’t it?”

“Da. Out of all the stupid, irresponsible things you could have done--”

You bristle at that. “Would you fucking relax? There’s no one around, I’m not even speeding by that much, and this was gonna happen sooner or later. I need a fucking license, Pete. Or, at least know how to drive a car.”

“Relax, Metallica,” Wade says before your rules abiding boyfriend can go on another tirade. “I’ve got this covered. Besides, she’s doing fine. She’s practically a natural.”

“You will both return to X-Mansion this instant!”

You roll your eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Piotr--”

“Nyet. You stole a car. You are driving without permit and with unlicensed instructor. You are speeding in hazardous conditions. Not only are you breaking laws, but you are putting yourself and Wade in danger. Come home, Y/N. Now.”

“And just when am I supposed to learn how to drive a fucking car--”

Wade grabs your shoulder. “Look out!”

You look at the road just in time to see a deer darting across the highway. You scream and jerk the wheel to avoid hitting it, then scream again when you start to lose control of the car. “Shit!”

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The car spins out, flips, and slams into a stand of trees at the bottom of a ditch. The windows shatter, and your call with Piotr completely cuts out.

You groan, dazed, as your body catches against the seat belt. You can barely make out Wade swearing in the seat next to you, mixing together with the sound of the radio.

**_“I don’t know how to stop...”_ **

You cough once, twice, and pass out.

 

* * *

 

You come to in a hospital bed, IV taped to your arm and sore everywhere. You whimper as you force yourself to open your eyes and look around.

Wade’s in the bed next to you. He grimaces when he sees you’re awake. “Hey. How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you rasp. “What...”

“Beast says you’re gonna be okay, all things considered. Luckily enough, I took the worst of the damage.” He points at you when you open your mouth to protest. “Nuh-uh. I can regrow body parts. You can’t. We were lucky.”

You look down at yourself. You’ve still got your limbs, nothing’s in a cast, and you don’t have massive amounts of stitches everywhere. He’s right. We got lucky.

There’s a metallic rap at the door, and Nathan walks in. He stops in front of both your beds, eyes both of you severely, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re both fucking idiots.”

“We know,” You and Wade mumble in sullen, sheepish unison.

He stares the two of you down a moment longer, then lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m glad the two of you are okay.” He kisses Wade tenderly, then presses a fatherly kiss to the top of your head before sitting on the edge of Wade’s bed. “How’re you two feeling?”

“No shittier than usual,” Wade says.

“Definitely shittier than usual,” You counter, frowning at the empty doorway. “Where’s... where’s Piotr?”

“Finishing his classes for the day,” Nathan says. “He’s pretty upset with you.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much during the phone call,” you mutter, belligerent, as you settle back against the bed. The constant wash of pain is exhausting, and you can feel your eyelids grow heavier with each breath you take.

You’re vaguely aware of Nathan talking to Wade while he readjusts your blankets, and tamp down a rush of disappointment that your boyfriend isn’t the one doing it instead.  _He’s finishing his classes_ , you tell yourself as you drift off.  _He’ll probably be here when you wake up again._

 

* * *

 

Piotr isn’t there when you’re woken up for dinner.

Or when you wake up in the middle of the night, crying from the pain you’re in.

Or the next morning, when you’re pulled from your doze by the healer coming in to start your next session.

By midday, you’re downright squirmy with nerves and irritation. “Where the fuck is he?”

“He’s got classes,” Wade offers as he works on an NSFW crossword. “Hey, do you know a seven letter word for ‘ladies of the night?’”

“Your mom. And yeah, I know that, but he hasn’t even come in to see me once! Everyone else’s been in by now!”

“Nathan said he was upset. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“I was in a fucking car accident. I think that exempts me from the fucking silent treatment.” You huff as you cross your arms over your chest --then wince and uncross them when the IV needle digs into your arm. “Besides, Piotr’s a paragon of responsibility and maturity. I’m pretty sure the silent treatment is beneath him.”

Wade shrugs, face cautiously neutral. “Everyone has bad days. All I’m saying.”

You eye him suspiciously. “What do you--”

Before you can finish asking your question, Hank McCoy lumbers in. “All right, the two of you have been cleared by the healers. We’ll do a final set of tests, and then you’ll be discharged. Sound good?”

You nod and attempt to file away your unfinished inquiry for later as best you can.  _I just want to get out of here._

 

* * *

 

You pad through the house, stiff and a little sore, but not to bad everything considered. You peer into room after your room, desperate to find your boyfriend.

Your shared bedroom, his classroom, and his art studio are all busts. Same for the training room, the rec room, and the kitchen.

The longer you search, the more irritated you get. You’d been in a car wreck, been crying in pain, gone through more healing sessions in the past twenty-four hours than you’ve ever wanted to, and he can’t both to pop in for five damn minutes to say hi?

_And what sort of bullshit about being upset is he on?_  

The two of you get injured all the time; he’s an X-Man, you’re accident prone, and you’re both honorary members of the X-Force. The two of you scare each other shitless and piss each other off with various recklessly earned injuries on at least a monthly basis, and both of you still manage to show up in the fucking recovery room every time.

You get a text from Ellie, tipping you off to head towards library.

You can hear Piotr arguing with his trainee as you walk towards the door.

“You had no right--”

“Colossus, you need to talk to her! You can’t just ignore--”

You push the door open. “Where the fuck have you been?!”

Ellie’s standing to Piotr’s left, arms crossed over her chest. “She’s here. Deal with this like an adult!”

Piotr doesn’t look up at you. He’s sitting at one of the tables, sketchbook and pencil in hand. “I have many responsibilities here at mansion. You know this.”

His detached, indifferent tone only makes your hackles go up. “Are you fucking serious, Piotr? I was in a fucking car accident!”

“I know. I distinctly remember calling you before it happened.”

“Are you-- you didn’t even come check on me! I was in the clinic overnight!”

“I have many--”

“No! No! Don’t you fucking ‘I had things to do’ bullshit me!” You storm over to the table and push his sketchpad down so he has to look at you. “I was in a fucking car accident! I don’t care how pissed you are at me, we’re partners! We fucking show up and make sure the other person is okay!”

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he glares at you. “Partners also respect each other. Make sure they don’t do damage to each other’s reputations. That they don’t upend each other’s days.”

You gape at him. “Are you fucking serious? How could I have--”

“You have common sense,” He growls. “Enough to know that doing every idea Wade suggests is foolish. Enough to know that speeding during rainstorm is downright idiotic!”

You cross your arms over your chest, flustered. You’re starting to feel panicky, almost like you’re backed into a corner despite the fact that you’re standing in the middle of a room with easy access to the exit. “You’re not even gonna acknowledge the fact that you didn’t bother to check in on me? You really think I deserved that?”

“As much as I deserve having to deal with each escalation in your behavior the longer you refuse to deal with void left by your parents.”

You recoil. He may as well have slapped you.

“Whoa!” Ellie gapes down at her mentor, wide eyed. “What the heck?”

Regret flashes in Piotr’s eyes, and he groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose.  _“Myshka_ \--”

You bare your teeth at him as tears sting your eyes. “Screw you, Piotr.” You storm out of the library, running --then flying--when you hear him running after you.

You zip upstairs, sprint down the hall --and duck into Nathan and Wade’s room. You close the door behind you as quietly as you can, then quickly --quietly--duck into the closet. You tuck yourself behind a dresser, turn your phone on silent, and turn down the brightness.  _Good fucking luck, Piotr,_  you think as your heart beats wildly in your chest.  _I’m a master at hiding._

You can hear his heavy footsteps pass Nathan and Wade’s room, and you barely dare to breathe while you listen to him search your shared room.

A text pops up on your phone screen.

**Bro: U ok?**

_You: Fuck no._

**Bro: Pete’s lookin 4 u.**

_You: I know. I don’t want to talk to him right now._

You hear more footsteps, and then Wade’s voice cuts through whatever muffled argument Nathan and Piotr are having.

“Look, man, she doesn’t want to talk to you right now. Give her some space. Go cool off.”

Piotr’s signature heavy stride retreats away from you, and then the door to Wade and Nathan’s room opens. There’s a brief silence--

And then Wade walks into the closet and sits on the floor so he can see you. “You okay?”

You sniff and give him a watery smile. “You found me fast.”

“It’s pretty easy when you know the ropes.” He holds out his arms to you. “C’mere, sis.”

You crawl into his lap, crying into his shoulder as the hurt and frustration finally starts pouring out.

“It’s alright,” he says as he rocks you back and forth. “I’ve got you.”

“She alright?” Nathan asks from the bedroom.

“She will be,” Wade says as he rubs a hand up and down your back. “She will be.”

 

* * *

 

You spend a good two hours with Wade and Nathan, venting your frustrations and eating junk food until you feel better.

Piotr, however, is nowhere to be found. He isn’t anywhere in the mansion, you don’t spy him when you buzz around the grounds attached to Xavier’s property, and all your calls and texts to his phone go unanswered.

You eventually put together that he’s left altogether, most likely to blow off steam.

You briefly toy with flying off to find him, then huff and discard the idea.  _He wants space? Fine. I have my own shit to do anyway._

You march back into the house.

 

* * *

 

By two in the morning, you’re distraught. You haven’t seen Piotr since your argument, he hasn’t answered any calls or texts of yours, and he hasn’t returned to your shared room to gather any of his things.

You pace the length of the bedroom, hands shaking as your mind races.  _What if something’s happened to him? What if people from Harmony have gotten to him? Or someone from Magneto’s team? Or a trafficker?_

You pull on a light jacket and fly out to the garage. If Piotr’s car isn’t back, you’re rolling Nathan out of bed to have him help find your boyfriend.

Piotr’s car, fortunately, is back among the others used by the X-Men --which means he’s safe, but it also means he’s deliberately avoiding you.

You grit your teeth as your wrack your mind for possible places where Piotr could possibly be hiding --then nearly smack yourself upside the head when it hits you.  _The art studio. Of course. He always keeps a change of clothes and some basic stuff in there, in case he spills something on himself or decides to stay overnight for an art binge._

Sure enough, when you storm up to the studio, light’s visible along the seam separating the door from the rest of the building.

You fling it open. “What the fuck!”

Piotr looks up at you, startled. He’s sitting on an air mattress, blanket laid over his legs and pillow propped up behind his back. “Y/N--”

“Are you fucking serious? You go all day without answering any of my texts, don’t even tell me that you’re back home, and now you’re camping out in your studio?” You snap. “I was so fucking worried! I thought someone had gotten to you, like in Harmony or one of Magneto’s agents!”

He has the decency to look sheepish. “I figured it would be better if we had some time apart. I thought you would not want to see me after what I said.”

You growl at him. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to make yourself the fucking martyr of this situation, Rasputin. No one’s putting you in the dog house but yourself. So quit acting like a long-suffering saint!”

He glares at you, now. “I may as well be, considering everything you put me through.”

“This again?” You roll your eyes. “Are you--”

“‘This again?’ Why do my frustrations only get a ‘this again?’ You are not only person in this relationship! Everything you do reflects on me! Do you ever consider how your actions make me look?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m such an ugly duckling!”

He scoffs. “Now who is being martyr?”

You shake your head and sneer at him. “You know what? Fuck off, Piotr. Sleep in your damn art studio if you want. Hope your bullshit keeps you company enough.” Without waiting for his response, you storm out and slam the door behind you.

You seethe as you race back to the room you normally share with your boyfriend. _How fucking dare he! He dodges me all day, leaves me up until two to worry, doesn’t even have the decency to communicate that he’s safe, and he wants to get mad at me?_

You eye your backpack, anger brewing in the pit of your stomach as an idea starts to form in your mind.  _You know what? Maybe Piotr’s right. Maybe some space is a good idea after all._  You dig the burner phone out from your nightstand drawer and dial your uncle’s number.

He answers on the second ring. “Hey, punk. What’s up?”

“Hey. Are you on a job right now? Things have kinda gone shitty here. I could use a place to lay low for a bit.”

“I’m home for a few weeks. Feel free to fly out whenever you want.”

“Cool. I’m leaving in a few minutes. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Alright. See you soon, punk.”

You make your good-bye, hang up, and pack together a quick bag. You aren’t planning on staying for all that long. Just for enough time to get your head together.

You leave your main phone on your nightstand, and slide a note for Wade and Nathan under your bedroom door.

Your stomach churns briefly as you pull your flight jacket and goggles on. You haven’t made a note for Piotr, and while you don’t want to do to him what he did to you, you also don’t want to leave any hints about where you’re going. You just want some damn space.

_Fuck it._  You sling your bag over your shoulder and march out onto the balcony. _I need to get flying while I still have the stars to navigate. Time is of the essence._

You hover yourself off the balcony, then fly off into the night.

 

* * *

 

“And he went the whole day without texting?”

“Yeah!” You take a sip at your can of beer. “The whole damn day! He didn’t even tell me he was back for the night! I was so worried!”

Your uncle shakes his head. “Nice. You left him a note, right?” When you don’t answer, he laughs bitterly. “Punk, you know better.”

“I had to get flying before I lost too much night time,” you mutter, sounding thoroughly unconvincing to your own ears.

“Uh-huh. Right. And what do you think about his comments about your antics reflecting on him?”

You roll your eyes. “I honestly don’t know what he’s talking about. I’m not like Wade. I don’t do drugs. I don’t binge drink. I don’t kill people. I keep my language and humor clean around the kids. Hell, I even haven’t tried to kill Scott in months!”

“Yeah, but you stole a car. _And_  crashed it. And he’s one of the leaders and teachers at Xavier’s. Whatever you do does reflect on him.”

You kick a piece of gravel off the porch steps. “Yeah, well--”

Before you can think of a good response to that, your uncle stands and shades his eyes as he peers out at the horizon. “Well. I’ll be damned.”

You gawk as you watch one of the X-Jets fly into view, then fume as it lands on your uncle’s front lawn.  _You’ve got to be shitting me._

The engines cut as soon as the wheels touch the grass, and the Piotr storms out, armored up and in his usual suit.

“Are you shitting me?” You scream at him. “Did you seriously fucking stalk me out here?”

His jaw clenches. “Get on jet.  _Now_.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I think the fuck not! I’m an adult, and I came here on my own as an adult.”

“Right. An adult who disappeared in middle of night with no warning and no traces as to where she went.”

“Seems like you didn’t have any problem finding me, you fucking control freak!”

He stiffens at that. “I was worried.”

“Yeah, and I was worried yesterday, but I didn’t spend the day stalking you down. You said you thought space was best, and I decided you were right! Make up your damn mind with these fucking boundaries, Rasputin!”

“There is clear difference between what I said and what you did!”

“You must be the boyfriend,” Your uncle interjects, extending his hand as he introduces himself. “I respect both your rights to be pissed off at each other, but  _I don’t think this is the best place to do it_.”

Piotr folds his arms over his chest, expression triumphant. “You are correct, sir. My apologies. We will get out of your space immediately.”

“Correction:  _you_  will get out of here immediately,” You snarl. “ _I_  have permission to be here. You. Don’t.”

“We need to work this out,” Piotr says.

“Oh, right, and that’s why you avoided me all day yesterday. And why you didn’t come in to check on me while I was recovering!”

“Time out!” your uncle shouts, cutting both of you off. “I tried being subtle, and now I’ll be obvious.  _Both_  of you need to get out of here before  _I_  have the  _feds_   _up my ass_.”

Piotr frowns, confused. “What?”

You glare at him before storming into the house. It doesn’t take you long to gather your shit, and you stomp back out and down the steps in a few minutes, zipping your flight jacket into place.

“ _Myshka_ , what--”

“Try to keep up!” You snap as you pull your goggles down. “I don’t feel like riding with you!” You sprint across the yard and launch yourself into the sky, flying towards Xavier’s as fast as you possibly can.  _When we get back home, I’m gonna fucking murder him._

 

* * *

 

You do, in fact, make back to the Institute a whole five minutes before the jet. If things were going better, you’d be thrilled.

You can hear the X-Jet landing as you storm inside, where you almost --literally--run into Ellie.

She raises an eyebrow at you. “I take it Piotr found you?”

“Did you know he was coming after me?”

“You left without any warning--”

The sound of Piotr’s heavy stride echoes through the house, and then he’s storming into the kitchen. “I--”

You shove him in the chest before he can get anything else out. “Are you fucking serious? What the fuck were you thinking!”

“I was thinking--”

“You’ve fucked  _everything_! Everything’s fucking ruined, and it’s all because you’re such a fucking control freak!”

“What did I do?” Piotr shouts, looking genuinely bewildered. “All I did was come get you! I fail to see--”

“That guy is my uncle,” You spit out between gritted teeth as tears start working their way down your cheeks. “He was a non-voluntary government operative until he managed to ghost them! I went out there to see him to get space, and I didn’t tell anyone or take my phone because if the feds manage to find him, they’ll take him back into their custody! And now you’ve flown a massive fucking jet to his house that can be easily found on any radar system and blown his cover! It’s all your fault!”

Piotr goes deathly pale, expression grave as he braces himself against the kitchen counter. “I… I had no idea.”

You crumple to the floor, sitting against the oven and wrapping your arms around your knees as you sob. “I’m gonna lose the only family member that ever fucking cared about me! The feds are gonna find him, and he’s gonna have to go under or be thrown in a fucking cell and used like a fucking gun, and I’m never gonna see him again or--”

“Okay.” Nate hauls you off your ass and onto your feet. “Enough. You both need sleep.” He guides you towards the stairs. “Ellie, make sure he showers off and gets at least seven hours. I’ll take care of her.”

You sniffle and whimper as he walks you upstairs. “This is a fucking nightmare! Everything is gonna go to shit--”

“No, it’s not. That’s your anxiety talking. Everything’s gonna be fine,” Nathan grunts as he ushers you onto the next flight of steps. “Right now, you need to calm down and get some sleep.”

You take in shaky gasps as he walks you to his and Wade’s room and helps you sit on the bed. “What about Piotr?”

“You can worry about him when the two of you have had some sleep and time to process everything that’s happened.” He helps you take off your jacket and shoes, then nudges you back until you’re lying on the mattress. “Get some rest, kid. The world will still be here when you wake up.”

Between the fast flight back home and your crying, you’re wiped out. You lay your head on a pillow, and promptly pass out.

 

* * *

 

You wake up hours later, less weepy and more angry.

Nathan glances over at you while you growl at the covers. “You alright?”

You huff at him.

“I’ll take that as a ‘sort of.’” He pushes his chair back, stretches as he stands, and picks up one of his many guns. “You wanna blow off some steam?”

You grin.

 

* * *

 

He takes you out to the shooting range at the furthest reach of Xavier’s property and lets you loose.

You shred target after target, shouting obscenities at the tattered paper targets as you unleash flurries of bullets at them. You your rage pour out into the destruction, let the sheer havoc drain the anger brewing in your chest.

Eventually, you stop, chest heaving and throat a little raw from all your screaming.

“You done?” Nathan asks.

You nod and hand the gun off to him, half expecting him to take a turn.

Instead, he turns on the safety and sets it on the table behind him. He takes his hearing and eye protection off and motions for you to do the same. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

You do as you’re told, confused and mildly anxious. “Is everything okay? Are you mad at me or something?”

“I’m not mad, but we need to sort some things out,” he says as he sits across from you. “Permission to be blunt?”

“...Okay.”

“You’ve been runnin’ roughshod over Pete, and you need to pull your head out of your ass and stop it.”

You recoil, but mostly out of the fact that you already suspected that. “What have I done?”

“Your wildin’ and deliberate rule breaking. Stealing the car with Wade and wrecking it.”

“That was an accident!”

“Yeah, it was, because you don’t know how to drive and shouldn’t have been in it in the first place.”

Your forehead puckers as you deliberately look anywhere but him. “Well, I need to learn--”

“No. You’ve got more common sense than that. What you’ve been doing, all the wild shit, hasn’t been for practical purposes. It’s because you grew up in a void and now you’re out of it but it isn’t out of you. You’re trying to fill the empty pit inside of you and keep everyone’s attention because you’re scared people will stop caring about you if you don’t remind them that you exist.”

_That_  hits deep. You curl into a little ball, arms wrapped around your legs, and try not to cry.

Nathan shifts off his seat and kneels in front of you. “Believe me, I know you’re hurting, and I know that dealing with that stuff scares you. It’s okay that you’re hurting and it’s okay that you’re scared; it’s not okay that you’re taking it out on the world around you, especially Piotr.”

“But he--”

“Yeah, he let his anger get the better of him and he treated you like shit in the process. Believe me, I’m not fucking happy about that either. But you need to pull your head out of your ass and think about how your actions affect him. Do you even realize that every time you pull a stunt like that, he has a harder time dealing with students because they see you doing rebellious shit and want to do it too?”

Your stomach churns. You didn’t know.

“Or that your behavior’s getting him into trouble with the other X-Men and Xavier? Right or not, they see him as responsible for you and the trouble you get into. When you act out, he catches shit from them for days.”

You swallow hard. “That’s --that’s not right of them.”

“No, it isn’t, and Piotr could definitely learn a thing or two about standing up for himself, but the point stands. You need to learn how to reign in your behavior and deal with your insecurities. And if you can’t, then maybe the X-Mansion isn’t the place for you to be right now.”

You flinch. “Where would I go?”

“Wade and I would take care of you, find a place for you to stay --speaking of which--”

“This should be good.”

He smirks. “You need to stop letting Wade drag you into so much shit.”

“But--”

“No, ‘but’ nothing. The two of you enable each other like nobody’s damn business, but you’ve actually got half a shot at keeping control over yourself because you give a shit about how you affect the people around you. Wade, for all his strengths, doesn’t give too many fucks about the fallout of what he does, mostly because he doesn’t think far enough in advance to predict what it might be.”

You frown. “Why should this all fall on me?”

“Because, technically speaking, Wade’s more fucked in the head than you are,” Nathan says. “His healing factor scrambles his head in more ways than one. He has trouble remembering a lot of shit, especially things that he hasn’t done over and over and over. He’s basically handicapped. You’re not.”

You peer at him over your knees. “So… what now?”

“That depends on what you think you need to do.”

You tuck your head down as you think.

You know you ought to apologize, to Piotr and the Professor, but apologies have never been a comfortable thing for you. The closest you got growing up was shrieking the words “I’m sorry!” while your parents locked you in your room, or beat you with a belt, or dragged you by your hair to the car so you could be taken to church for “prayer purification,” or--

Nathan’s hands squeeze your shoulders. “Hey. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You realize you’re crying, and basically let yourself collapse into his arms.

He holds you close, lets you cry on his shoulder. “You’re okay. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

You sniff, ugly and inelegant, and force yourself past the fear you’re feeling. “I should apologize to the Professor.”

“Yeah. That’d be a good start. What about Piotr?”

You whimper and start crying harder. “Shit, I fucked everything up. There’s no way he’ll take me back after everything.”

Nathan’s silent for a moment. “I… I wasn’t under the impression that the two of you had broken up.”

“I mean… not technically… but it won’t be long coming after everything.”

Nathan sighs, then pats your back and helps you to your feet. “How about we let Pete decide that, hm?”

You shake your head. You can’t bear it, can’t bear the thought of looking at his face and not seeing any love for you in his eyes. “No--”

“Yeah, kid. Come on.”

You’re grateful for the protective --stabilizing--arm he keeps around your shoulders as the two of you trek back to the mansion. You keep your eyes focused on the grassy lawn, mind racing over nothing at all as you measure your stride to keep pace with Nathan.

He’s silent, until he squeezes you against his side. “Someone’s waiting for you.”

You look up and see Piotr sitting on the back steps, out of defense mode and dressed in casual clothes.

You whimper and look away as soon as he makes eye contact with you, burying your face in Nathan’s chest like a kid hiding their eyes from a scary scene in a movie.

“Hey, hey,” Nathan murmurs as he tries to --lovingly--pry you off of him. “You’re fine. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No!” You cry. “He’s gonna hate me, and--”

“ _Myshka_.” Piotr’s hand presses against your back, then slowly slides up to your arm and gently --oh so gently--turns you around.

You sniff as you stare up at him, tears trickling down your cheeks. You don’t dare speak, not a single word, not when everything seems like it’s teetering on the edge of falling apart.

He cups your face with his massive hands, rubs his thumbs over the curves of your cheeks. He looks at you for a long moment, blue eyes shining with unshed tears, then dips his head and presses his lips against your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

And that --just a little gesture of love and trust--breaks the dam.

You let out a sob and crumple against him, clinging to him as he gathers you into his arms and presses gentle kisses all over your face and head. “Piotr --I’m sorry! I’m so,  _so_  sorry!”

His arms tighten around you. “So am I,  _myshka_. So am I.”

Nathan pats your shoulder. “I think the two of you have this handled.”

Piotr murmurs an affirmative as he kisses your temple.

“Good.” He starts to walk away, then stops. “If hear anything from her that sounds remotely like the shit you said before she left, my fist will be up your ass before you know it.”

You squish yourself as close to your boyfriend as his human possible as he mumbles another affirmative to Nathan, hellbent on getting as much affectionate contact in as you can.

Piotr lifts you off the ground and kisses your forehead as he follows Nathan into the house. “Let’s find somewhere more private to talk, _da_?”

You snuffle as you mash your face against his shoulder. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

The two of you retreat to your shared room, all kisses and half-whispered apologies once the door closes.

It doesn’t take you long for you to cry yourself out. Between the car accident, the fighting, the fast trip to and from your uncle’s, and your talk with Nate, you’re completely wiped out. You fall asleep with your head on Piotr’s chest while he rubs his hand up and down your back.

When you wake up, hours later, it’s dark outside and Piotr hasn’t budged from your side.

“How are you feeling?” he murmurs as you stretch.

“Better.” You sit up --and nestle against his chest when he sits up and leans against the headboard. “Piotr --babe--I’m really sorry. I’m sorry about going along with Wade’s idea when I knew better, and I’m sorry for stealing the car and wrecking it, and I’m sorry for yelling at you in the library and the art studio, and I’m sorry for flying out to my uncle’s without telling you and trying to pass it off as following your idea--”

He shushes you gently, pressing a tender kiss against your lips. “It’s okay,  _myshka_. You are very much forgiven. For all of it. And I am sorry for my part in all of this. I should have checked on you after the accident, and I should never have said what I did about you and your parents.”

“Well, I mean, you weren’t wrong.”

“Accuracy and moral correctness are two different things. Instead of talking to you in private, out of love and concern for you, I said it out of anger to hurt you, and I am so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”

You tuck your face against his neck. “It’s okay --I mean, we’re…” You sit up. “Can you turn the light on?”

“ _Da_.”

You wince as soft light from the lamp on his nightstand floods the room, then look at your boyfriend’s handsome face.

He looks as a tired as you feel, and his blue eyes are red and puffy from crying.

You don’t doubt that your eyes look much the same. You run your fingers over his fluffy black hair, smoothing out some of the bedhead from the nap you took together. “Are we… are we still us? Am… am I still your  _myshka_?”

His expression pinches with pain, and he lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the pads of your fingers. “You will be my  _myshka_  for as long as you want to be.”

You let out a shaky breath as stray tears start winding their way down your cheeks. “I’ll always want to be your  _myshka_.”

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head as he cradles you against his chest. “Then you will always be my  _myshka_.”

You let out a choked, relieved sob and press your lips against his.

You know there’s gonna be more to deal with than just this, but you don’t care.

You and Piotr are okay. That’s all that matters right now.

 

* * *

 

You pick at the hem of your shirt sleeve as you sit down on the couch in Alyssa’s office.

Your therapist studies you calmly, undoubtedly fully briefed about what’s happened over the past couple days by Professor Xavier and what’s rattling around in your head. “How are you?”

“...Okay,” you decide after a minute. “I’m okay.”

“Alright. That’s good. Do you want to talk about everything that’s happened over the past couple days?”

You grimace. “Do we have to?”

Alyssa smiles, albeit not unkindly. “Yeah, sweetheart, we do.”

You sigh as continue picking at the hem of your sleeve. “I mean, I guess you already know about the accident and all of that.”

“I do.”

“I know we’ll have to talk about that eventually… but I think there’s something more important to talk about right now.”

“Okay. We can talk about that instead.”

Your teeth fuss with the inside of your lower lip as you finally look up at her. “Dad --Nate and I talked. About what happened. He said that I do all the crazy shit because I grew up without attention, and now that I’ve got it I’m scared I’m gonna lose it, so I keep doing wild stuff so no one forgets about me.”

Alyssa raises an eyebrow and nods. “And what do you think about that?”

“I think he’s right,” you admit.

“Okay. And why do you think he’s right?”

You find a loose thread on your shirt sleeve and start tugging at it. “I’m not entirely sure, I just know he is. I know that I’m scared of being abandoned, and that doing ridiculous stunts keeps me in everyone’s focus, even if it’s bad.”

Alyssa leans forward and gently takes your hand off your shirt sleeve before you can unravel it. “Okay. That’s a good start. What do you think would be a better way of handling your anxiety over being abandoned?”

Your forehead puckers. “I-- I really don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it since Dad and I talked, but I can’t figure out how to fix it except by just not doing all the destructive shit.”

“Okay. That’s fine. You don’t have to have all the answers.” She smiles at you when you give her a confused look. “You’re on this whole big journey of discovering yourself. You’re not gonna know everything.” She sits back in her seat. “I want to challenge you to view things a little differently. First, stopping the destructive behavior isn’t the path. It’s the goal. It’s what you’re trying to achieve. It isn’t the means to a better end, it’s the end itself.”

You nod. “Okay. So how do I get there?”

“Well, first we need to retrain your brain. You’ve been taught to believe that you deserve negative attention, and that people are going to forget about you if you don’t stay directly in their line of sight. So, when those thoughts and fears come up, you need to feed your brain some positive affirmations to counteract those distorted cognitions.”

You huff as you stare down at your shoes. “I hate doing positive affirmations.”

“No, you don’t,” Alyssa says with a chuckle. “They make you nervous because they’re new to your brain and contradict everything you’ve been telling yourself for your whole life.”

You frown at that, but ultimately don’t argue. “Okay. So what should I tell myself instead?”

“I don’t know. Only you can figure out what your brain needs to hear.”

You go silent for a minute, trying to process what you could possibly say that won’t sound like a lie.

It doesn’t take long to figure out that nothing won’t.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“That I’ll be proven wrong. That I’ll start telling myself all this good shit, and then someone will come along and prove it all wrong.”

Alyssa nods. “It’s normal to be scared. Combating anxious thoughts often creates anxious thoughts. You have to climb the hill in order to reach the top of it. But, if you’re scared…”

You put together what she’s leading you to after a couple minutes. “It means that my anxious brain is talking again.”

She grins and points at you. “Exactly. You gotta push past it.”

You swallow hard and close your eyes. “It’s hard.”

“I know, sweetheart. But you’re strong enough to do it.”

You draw in a shaky breath and try to focus.

It’s not something that’s ever come easy for you. You prefer to keep something going at all times so that the overwhelming noise of your brain doesn’t catch up with you.

There’s a lot of hate. A lot of screaming. A lot of twisted, ugly memories that snarl at you before fading into different, equally horrible worries.

And then, underneath it all, a tiny voice.

_I just wanna be loved. Please, I’ll be good! I wanna be good! Please--_

Suddenly, it’s the only thing you can hear; it’s deafening, shrieking until you feel like you’re choking on it, drowning in it--

“Y/N.”

You realize you’re crying as you open your eyes.

Alyssa kneels in front of you. “There you are. Take some deep breaths for me, alright? In for four, hold for four, out for four. Come on.”

You do as she tells you until you stop shaking.

“That’s it. There we go.”

You wipe your face dry with your shirt. “I think… I think I know what my brain needs to hear.”

“Okay. And what’s that?”

You almost don’t want to say it, for fear that as soon as you do you’ll be proven wrong.  _Push through. You gotta push through._  “That… that I’m loved. And that I’m good enough.”

“Okay. Those are some good affirmations. And they’re very true.” Alyssa looks at the door as she stands, then back at you. “There’s someone here who wants to see you.”

You nod, then peer over the back of the couch as the door to Alyssa’s office opens.

Piotr steps in, smiling softly. “ _Privet, myshka_.”

“We’ve been working on positive affirmations today,” Alyssa says as you dart over to Piotr and wrap your arms around his waist. “Do you wanna tell him what you picked?”

You press your forehead against his chest, trying to ground yourself on the steady comfort that he never fails to provide you with. “That I’m loved, and that I’m good enough.”

“This is very big step,” Piotr murmurs as he hugs you. “I am very proud of you,  _lyublyu_. And you are very much loved, and more than good enough.”

“You are,” Alyssa agrees when you start weeping. “And it’s time for your brain to start hearing that.”

Piotr gently ushers you into the hall so Alyssa can prepare for her next patient, then helps you sit on a leather armchair and kneels in front of you. “Deep breaths,  _moya lyubov’_. Deep breaths.”

You sag against him, pressing your face against his shoulder as you do your best to calm down.  _It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna be okay._

Piotr’s hands are warm and firm against your back, contrasting with how soft and gentle his lips are against your temple. “You know I love you,  _da_?”

“Yeah, baby, I know. I just don’t love myself, and that’s the problem.”

He wraps his arms around you, almost as though he can shield you from your negative thoughts from the outside. “You can get there,  _dorogoy_. I know you can.”

You slide your arms over his shoulders, holding yourself to him as you finally catch your breath and start calming down. “Babe?”

“ _Da_?”

“Can you… can you tell me you love me? Please?”

He presses his lips against your temple again. “I love you, Y/N L/N. You are most precious thing in my world.”

You let a shaky breath, then lean back and kiss him. “I love you. I love you so much.”

He kisses the tip of your nose, then your forehead. “Are you ready for next part?”

You swallow hard, then nod and push yourself to your feet. “May as well get it over with.”

 

* * *

 

It’s hard not to shake as you stand in the center of Professor Xavier’s office. You feel like you’re under a microscope, pressed against a glass slide and being scrutinized pore by pore.

It’s hard not to think about your parents, about how they’d scream at you and lock you in your room. About how everyone in the fucking cesspool you grew up in would leer at you, insult you, demean you.

But Scott’s not here. And Piotr is. And Professor Xavier isn’t the screaming type.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to make eye contact with the man in the wheelchair. “I’m sorry. For stealing the car with Wade and crashing it. I realize I could’ve caused a lot of legal issues for you and your institution, and I’m sorry for putting you at risk like that --and for causing destruction to your property. I know I can’t pay to replace it--”

Professor Xavier smiles kindly and holds up a hand to stop you. “Your uncle’s already covered the costs of the car.”

Your stomach churns and you let your gaze drop to the carpeted floor.  _Someone’s always cleaning up my fucking mess, aren’t they._  “Well, still. I’m really sorry.”

“I appreciate the apology,” Xavier says, still smiling. “I’m not unfamiliar with cases like yours, Y/N. I know that the road to recovery can be messy. You’ve already come a long way from when you first came here.”

“Thank you, sir. Alyssa and I--”

He holds up his hand again. “The specifics of your recovery are between you, Alyssa, and your support circle. There’s nothing I need to know.”

You feel a little relieved at that. “Thank you, sir.”

“Are you going to stay consistent in your therapy sessions with Alyssa?”

You nod.

“Are you going to work at using whatever techniques she’s given you to help you reign in your destructive tendencies?” When you nod again, he nods back. “Then I don’t see what else we have to talk about. We can start your driving lessons once you’ve stabilized a little bit.”

You let Piotr usher you back out of the office and into the hallway.

“That was not so bad, was it?”

You swallow hard and shake your head. “Comparatively, no.” You squeeze the hand holding yours, then let go of him. “I need to make a call. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

He nods and bends down to kiss you. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Piotr.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey, punk! How’s it going?”

You let out a sigh of relief when your uncle answers your call. “It’s alright. I didn’t get into too much trouble, all things considered. Are you okay?”

“Oh, not too bad. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten into a close call situation. I’m laying low for a bit, got a team protecting my place so I have a place to go back to when the smoke clears.”

“That’s good. Oh, I’m still at Xavier’s, by the way. They didn’t kick me out.”

Your uncle chuckles. “Yeah, no kidding. I’ve got my contract with Charles leveraged so that you wouldn’t be.”

“You shouldn’t do shit like that!” You hiss, stomach sinking. “You can’t use stuff like that just so I don’t get hit with consequences!”

“It’s not like that, punk, but I appreciate your nobility. No, I had that clause added in once your mutation manifested. I wanted to know you’d always have a place to stay if you ever escaped from home or if I ever got you out.”

“I could’ve just stayed with you.”

He laughs again. “Yeah, because that would’ve been a perfect set up. I wasn’t in any position to raise a kid when you first manifested --still ain’t. Charles has been doing this for  _years_ , punk. I knew you’d be safe in his hands.”

You sigh and let it go. “Okay. Thanks for covering the car by the way.”

“Hey, what are illegally wealthy uncles for?” There’s a voice in the background, and your uncle replies in a language you don’t understand before talking to you again. “I gotta go, punk. I’ll be in touch when I can.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hear the line go dead and flip the phone shut.

All in all, things haven’t been too disastrous. You still have your boyfriend and found family, Xavier isn’t gonna kick you out, and your uncle’s safe.

You’ve still got a lot ahead of you to work out, though, and it ain’t gonna be pretty.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath when the panic starts rising again.  _It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna be okay. I’m loved, and I’m good enough._

You really hope the universe doesn’t prove you wrong.

The door creaks open, and Piotr’s soft, deep voice calls out to you. “ _Myshka_? Are you alright?”

You open your eyes and nod. “Yeah. I just finished calling my uncle. He’s alright for now.”

“Good. And, about that--” He joins you on your shared bed and takes your hands in his. “I wanted to apologize for blowing your uncle’s cover. If I had known--”

You wave him off. “It’s alright, Pete --and I appreciate the apology, really.” You laugh bitterly. “Just another fucked up aspect of my family. No one would ever think about thinking about stuff like that.”

“More than you may think.” He smiles grimly when you give him a questioning look. “My _mamochka_. She used to work as KGB operative during Cold War.”

You blink. “Wow. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Most do not. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that… I understand. Why you couldn’t tell me you were seeing him before, and why you were so upset when I tracked you --which, again, I am very sorry--”

You loop your arms around his neck and peck his cheek. “I forgive you, Piotr. Stop beating yourself up.”

He smiles ruefully and tugs you into his lap. “Every family has secrets,  _myshka_. Yours is not alone in this.”

“Thanks, baby. For… for always supporting me the best you can. I love you.”

He kisses the top of your head. “I love you too,  _dorogoy_.”

Yeah, you’ve got a lot of shit ahead of you to deal with.

But you’re starting to think that maybe --just maybe--you might make it out alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics are from Halestorm's "I Don't Know How to Stop." Arguably, one of their most underrated songs.
> 
> Sorry for the pain. The next update will probably be fluffier.
> 
> Probably.


End file.
